


Perfectly Normal

by EvilDime



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Child Abuse, Evil, Gen, Pre-Hogwarts, pathological sadism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-05-10
Packaged: 2018-03-29 23:37:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3914926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilDime/pseuds/EvilDime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abused!Harry fics usually cast uncle Vernon in the role of the main villain. But couldn't it have been Petunia just as well?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfectly Normal

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: None of this is mine. If you are looking for ownership of the world or characters, or if you want to see someone making money off of Harry Potter, kindly ask J.K. Rowling about it. I wouldn’t know.
> 
> Beta: Spellwinder, sort of - Thanks for the hints, back then! ^^
> 
> This is another cross-post of an older fic, I haven't gotten around yet to translating another multi-chapter fic. This one's evil - don't say I didn't warn you...

Have you ever encountered someone who tried desperately to blend in, to seem normal? It is often quite pitiful to see, for the people who have the greatest wish to be seen as normal are usually those that are anything but. They know deep inside that they are different, and they fear that society will shun them, will punish them for their non-adherence to the unwritten law of modern society; that you have to be like everyone else in order to be fully accepted. So they try with all their might to appear normal, to even _be_ like everyone else – although they know all too well that they aren’t. Denying oneself to be true to one’s cravings, feelings and desires is not an easy thing to do. It is also not healthy.

Petunia Dursley knew all that. It unnerved her to no end that she could not have magic like her sister Lily did. No matter how abnormal, that was at least a trait shared by many. Lily had an entire _world_ of people just like her; within that world, Petunia’s sister _was_ normal. Petunia envied her sister the acceptance she got from other people for what clearly was an outrageous abnormality. It made her so bitter to see her parents gush over their dear Lily’s achievements.

What would they say if Petunia told them of _her_ little abnormality? Would they gush and fawn over her as well? Petunia snorted very un-ladylike into her breakfast tray. She knew perfectly well that they would never accept her … particular inclinations. They were, after all, upstanding members of society, with strict morals and a deeply ingrained sense of propriety. Wizardry was as old as the English society, so within the confines of their secret community, wizards and witches were perfectly normal and accepted. Petunia however… she would never be normal. Not by anyone’s standards. There was no secret world for her to enter and be welcomed. There was only shame and humiliation waiting for her should anyone ever know… ever find out…

She knew she would have to hide what she was, for all her life. She was, after all, not normal. Not even close. What she wanted was unnatural, was _wrong_ , oh so wrong. Once, she had heard her parents talk about a film they had seen on the TV, where someone like her had made a short appearance. He had been presented as a total freak, perverted, twisted, and sadly misled. When the main character killed him, no-one spilled a tear. Her father even nodded his head in approval. Later that night, Petunia had had to listen to her parents’ thoughts about _sick and twisted_ people that _should be wiped out of existence._ She had cried herself to sleep that night.

She had tried to stop it. To punish herself for what she wanted, to make herself stop wanting it. Without success. It was as if some devil possessed her, barring her from the normal life she now craved. At school, she had loved to read Shakespeare. “ _Stars hide your fires, let not light see my black and deep desires!”_ Oh, how she could relate to Macbeth!

She married not for love or good looks, but for money. With Vernon Dursley, there was little chance her sick mind would ever act up and betray her. Nights were a boring affair, the routine weekly sexual encounter a necessity to be endured, not something to be anticipated and cherished. Days were filled with being a good housewife, attending the meetings of the local women’s circle, going to church like any good, Christian, _normal_ British, conservative and picture-book-perfect little wife.

She was good and sick of it by the time her son arrived.

Dudley had every sign of another Vernon in the making. He was already fat as a baby, and his father spoiled him rotten. Suppressing a sigh, Petunia once again gave into her fate and copied her husband, like any good little wife should. She went right along with spoiling ‘Diddy Duddidums’ rotten, feeding him too many sweets and catering to his every whim, while her husband stood proudly beside her, gushing over what a ‘determined and self-confident young man’ his Dudders would one day become.

_Unlike you_ , she wanted to snarl at her fat blob of a husband, who did not have courage for half a penny and was easily thrown off-track by any little problem, making mountains out of molehills, whinging about his oh-so-evil boss and his God-punish-them-for-their-stupidity brainless subordinates. He was clearly not cut out to lead. He was a whiner, a wimp, and she would have so _loved_ to, just once, show him exactly what she thought of him and give him what he was pretty much begging for with his whining…

But no. She would not risk the backlash a rash action like that would have on her social life. The idea of being thrown out on her ear, being called a freak and disinherited by her parents, ending up lonely, despised and earning her money god only knew how – no, she would definitely _not_ risk that fate by letting her true feelings out to play.

Even though Vernon was _asking_ for it.

* * *

It was into this relaxed, harmonic atmosphere a one-year-old Harry Potter arrived one eventful October night. The little child knew nothing of what had occurred that day, of what _he_ himself had done; knew nothing of the fate his parents had met, nor of the world that he had just left in exchange for another. A less welcoming world of which he was not really a part, a world where he was a freak and an abnormality – at least in the eyes of his aunt, and consequently, his uncle on whom she held more sway than he would ever have admitted.

The little boy did not even know this aunt, did not know what he had gotten into when the giant on the flying motorbike took him far away from the house where he had been loved and cherished by his parents. Knew nothing of why his aunt, when she discovered him the next morning, took an instant dislike to him. Knew not why his cousin would be treated so much differently from him in the following years, nor why his aunt sometimes got a measuring glance when she looked at him.

He was so innocent.

When Petunia gave her sister’s son his bottle for the first time, her hand unconsciously tightened in the little boy’s black mop of hair as she considered the even features, the slender built of his little body and the beauty of his emerald green eyes. Why couldn’t her Dudley be like that? She deeply resented the fact that her sister, perfect Lily, had even outdone her in something so basic as bearing her first child. Even in this very unmagical act, her sister had surpassed her.

She gave a start when the baby in her arms spit out the sucker on his bottle and began to cry piteously. Quickly, she loosened her death-grip in the babe’s hair. She would not mistreat a child, even if it was her sister’s… or would she? Calculation entered her usually carefully guarded hazel eyes as she considered the little kid. Harry looked so innocent as he lay there, sobbing and hiccuping, the perfect picture of an innocent, normal one-year old. Unconsciously, she had begun to rock him, and he slowly quieted down. Just when he was about to start drinking again, the devil himself seemed to drive Petunia. She reached out and softly slapped the rosy-cheeked boy across the face. Instantly, the mewling and sobbing started again.

Petunia sat in shock.

What had she done? Quickly glancing around, she heaved a relieved sigh when she noticed that Vernon was nowhere in sight. She had not been observed. Everything was well. She could not afford to give away what she… No. She really did not want _that_ little fact to be known.

Looking at her nephew, though, she realized with a start that she did not feel remorse for what she had done, only for the fact that she had to hide it. Wouldn’t it be glorious to treat her sister’s spawn any way she wanted, with no-one the wiser? If she just kept him inside the house at all times… Dreamy-eyed, she considered all the possibilities unfolding in front of her as the little boy cried in her arms, confused at the things that were happening to him.

Why did the woman hurt him? Why did she not comfort him, like his mother would? Where was his mother?

As Harry cried his confusion and loneliness out to the silent living room, Petunia’s thoughts were on his future. Vernon was the only one who could destroy her plans for this little angel that seemed to her a gift straight out of hell. But Vernon was gullible. She could easily make him see that… ah, yes. That Harry was abnormal. A freak. Child of her _magical_ sister. That would do the trick. Petunia and Vernon had very few things in common, but this was the one that had finally convinced them both that they would be a good match: Vernon shared her desperate desire to appear normal.

Harry, though, was anything but. He was a danger to their social standing, to their highly valued normality. Yes, Petunia smiled. She could lead her husband into the right direction effortlessly. Once he was adopting a certain attitude towards her sister’s son, he would no longer notice if her own behaviour around the boy deviated strongly from how she held herself around Dudley. Petunia snorted. Not notice? By the time she was through with her husband and nephew, Vernon would _approve_ of harsh punishments and strict orders for the boy.

Grinning in anticipation, Petunia inserted the bottle back into the little child’s wide-open mouth, making him gasp and splutter as he nearly choked on the sudden intrusion.

For the first time in her life, Petunia would get to exert power over another human being. She would be allowed – no, _able_! She did not need anyone’s approval for this. For once, she would be _free_ to order a man around, to make him jump at her every whim, to withhold food and other boons as a punishment… Oh yes, punishment! Her heart beat faster at the mere thought.

So he might be a child still; but that did not lessen the excitement coursing through her veins at the thought of commanding, controlling this little boy, of dominating every aspect of his young life. Indeed, the fact that he was the offspring of her dearly be-hated sister was an added bonus. He would be hers to do with as she pleased. Oh, Lily might have been perfectly normal, in spite of being a freak. Petunia would see to it that with her son, it would be the other way around. Vernon would teach him not to do anything _freakish_. And she… she would teach him not to become normal.

The members of the local woman’s circle would have been highly astonished had they seen the cruel smile that twisted the lips of the meek and obedient housewife Petunia Dursley as she sat there, force-feeding her nephew and delighting in his desperate attempts to escape her clutches.

She had power now. And she was not about to ever let it go.


End file.
